Only eight of us today I started with a story of the lost opportunity to change history. Joan told of Margaret looking back on her life. Sally's true story of very bad DIY. John A bank employee regretting a well planned robbery gone wrong. Sheila post war playing in dens. Rosemary dreaming of falling through the sky. Sue went for a ride on a broomstick.
Next month at Sue's "gently"
Ann got most votes with this ghostly tale.
Quite an Idea
Becky and I had been friends since childhood. We had grown up as next door neighbours and had always done everything together - going to the same school, joining the same youth club, leaving to start work at the same time and both going into office work, although to different firms. I was an only child and loved the fact I had a readymade friend nearby, but Becky had a brother just a couple of years older. We all played quite happily together when we were younger, but as we grew up Chris went off to join his own mates. We always considered ourselves as one big family though and always joined together for any family celebrations or outings. Chris went off to university and met Aimee. He started bringing her home for the odd weekend and we all got along famously. When they both graduated they got jobs teaching near her home in Somerset. No one was very surprised when they announced they had got a flat together and were engaged to be married. She asked Becky to be bridesmaid and we all went to the wedding in the pretty village church at Winford near her parent's home. Her family made us feel very welcome and it was like having another extended family. Over the next couple of years Becky and I went to visit Chris and Aimee several times at their flat in Bristol and it was on one of these occasions that they told us they were expecting. A few weeks before the baby was born they moved into a small house nearer her family. Jessica was born in July and the proud parents brought her down to see her relatives and courtesy aunts and uncle. I was thrilled to bits when they asked if I would be godmother along with Becky when she was christened.
The christening was in October and Becky and I arranged to go up for the weekend. Her parents were going up for the week before to give a hand with the preparation for the christening - at least that was their excuse, but everyone knew it would be baby-worshipping week. As we had never been to the new house before we thought it would be quite an idea to make a route map as it was a bit off the beaten track.
Things were going very well until we came to the diversion sign. This would be fine if we could work out where it dropped us back onto the original route. The road was certainly very narrow and winding, although the scenery was very nice. We appeared to be approaching a small village called Moreton. There was a very picturesque water mill and I managed to get a shot of it on my phone as we went by. There was quite a lot of activity further along with everyone seeming to be heading towards a
large building. It must be celebration of sorts, as everybody appeared to be in fancy dress. It was almost like being on a film set in the 1940's or 50's. They were all going into the gate of Chew Park house and farm and there was obviously a celebration as we could see tables laid out. Everyone seemed to be carrying baskets of fruit and vegetables. I asked Becky if she could stop while I took a few photos.
A young man smiled and waved very obligingly. We waved back then went on our way. It wasn't long before the diversion ended and we realised we weren't that far from our destination.
Later that evening when Jessica was tucked up in bed and we were having a meal with both sets of parents, we got talking about our journey up. We explained that we had been diverted and were concerned we would get lost. When asked where the diversion was we said we had come through a pretty village called Moreton and we'd passed a lovely old water mill. Everyone was all dressed out in 1940's and 50's clothes and appeared to be going to a party at a farm called Chew Park house. There was silence before Aimee's mother said that wasn't possible. Moreton had been flooded in the early 1950's and was at the bottom of the Chew Valley Lake. I said I had taken some photos on my phone and took it out to show her. Again there was stunned silence and a sharp intake of breath as she looked at them before handing the phone to her mother. "This is Moreton and the water mill is Stratford Mill. The celebration at Chew Park is the Harvest Home supper. It was held every year when the harvest had been brought in and that is your Dad waving." "It's not possible," repeated Aimee's mum.
Looking at Becky and me, Aimee's grandma said, "You must have slipped into a time warp. That's the only explanation. Grandad would have been so proud to have been here for his first great grand daughter's christening, that he did the next best thing and sent her a phone message."
